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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

S olarius’s hand around Calfair’s throat was the best sort of vengeance.

He could feel him struggle to swallow against his grip, knew that if he squeezed a little bit tighter, then the air would cease to flow.

Knew that if he used the full might of his strength, he could crush Calfair’s neck, turn his bones to dust.

Solarius enjoyed the way his former friend’s eyes bulged slightly, and he delighted in the mottled shade of purple blooming over Calfair’s skin while his mouth opened and closed like a dying fish.

There would be no greater satisfaction than killing him right here, right now.

But a soft voice entered his mind, slinking past the fog of revenge clouding his mind.

“Let him go.”

Narissa’s delicate hand curled around his upper arm, and Solarius tightened his hold.

Calfair struggled, gasping as the veins along the whites of his eyes popped.

“Solarius. Let him go.” Narissa’s tone was gentle yet firm.

“I want to go home. Release him and take me home.”

Home.

Not to Windsong.

Not to Azurvend.

But home.

To Celestine.

He released his grip on Calfair and the bastard started choking, swallowing greedy gulps of air as though that would somehow save his damned soul.

Solarius was well aware of the fact that nearly everyone in the ball was staring at them.

Nobles from every house in Aeramere stood in uncomfortable silence watching the altercation unfold.

But he found he no longer cared what anyone thought—let them talk.

They would know how easily he could end them if they so much as dared to lay a finger upon his wife.

Solarius draped his arm around Narissa’s shoulders, curling her into his side as a means of protection.

Calfair was still coughing, rubbing one hand over his neck where the skin was swollen and bruised.

His dark, watery gaze shot their way, and he sneered.

Solarius’s jaw popped, and he pointed at him, his voice low and threatening as he said, “Consider this your final warning, Skyhelm.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

He hauled Narissa out of that overbearing ballroom, grabbing her cloak and gloves from one of the servants on the way out.

“I’m going to kill him,” he muttered, planting one hand on the small of her back as he guided her out of House Galefell and into the frosty winter night.

Narissa tucked her gloves into the pocket of her velvet cloak, and tossed it over her arms, refusing to look his direction.

Instead, she inspected her manicure, adjusting and readjusting the golden rings on her fingers.

“Another time, perhaps.”

Her hushed dismissal only served to stoke his anger.

Solarius was no fool.

He’d heard her scattered thoughts all day, he’d listened to her wage war against her own mind as she silently debated whether or not to talk to him, to figure out why he was broody and closed off.

He was really going to have to work with her on barricading her mind, especially if she planned on keeping things from him.

Like sneaking off to House Galefell to deliver some sort of tonic to Calfair’s sister.

After all, he’d managed to keep her out of his mind all day.

The letter he’d received from Ariesian last night had wedged itself between his shoulders like a blade of tension, and he’d concealed its infuriating contents from Narissa all day.

Granted, it had not been Solarius’s intent to be cold and standoffish toward her, but he was uncertain of how to handle Ariesian’s message.

The letter was a warning.

After Drake had been denied an audience with Lord Aeolus Skyhelm, he’d slipped into the shadows and stolen into House Galefell anyway, as expected.

He’d entered the house with the sole purpose of uncovering Trysta’s reasons for being there and had discovered Solarius’s mother in a secret talk with Calfair.

That part of the letter had been shocking enough, but then it only got worse.

Trysta seemed upset and was in desperate need of something only Calfair could access.

The message was vague in terms of what exactly Trysta sought, but the price was apparently steep, as she promised Calfair more dragon root in exchange for the mystery item.

That slice of knowledge gutted Solarius.

His mother, his own fucking mother , had been the one to give Calfair the dragon root he used to take advantage of Narissa.

And Trysta did not even bat an eye, not once did she bother to concern herself with why a lord of Aeramere might want such a harmful plant.

Not only that, but Solarius didn’t know if his mother had simply offered up dragon root for a trade, or if Calfair had requested it in return.

Either way, he’d held tight to his rage all day.

He didn’t want Narissa to know his fury, he didn’t want her to think his family supported Calfair drugging her.

As it was, he hardly considered Trysta family anymore.

Solarius lost all trust for his mother many moons ago.

Like when Trysta lied and claimed his sister, Novalise, was a simple star reader, then hid the fact that she actually possessed the legendary starstorm.

Or when she told all of Aeramere that Nyxian was star-touched when Novalise accidentally struck him with starfire.

Then there were all the times Trysta knowingly fabricated star readings for other nobles to suit her own needs.

But he supposed his first inkling of mistrust arose when she failed to shed a single tear upon learning about the death of his father, Zenos.

Trysta had lacked any emotion.

She’d been somber, sure, but to not even cry?

To not show the crush of devastation one must have felt when the supposed love of her life, the father of her eight children, was stolen from this living world far too soon?

Solarius had never let down his guard around her since.

Now, her clandestine meetings at House Galefell were only serving to further his suspicions of her wavering trust.

Beside him, Narissa shivered, drawing him back from his silent musings to the present.

He hailed the next carriage, bracing one arm in front of Narissa as the sleek Eponians with midnight coats and silver manes pranced to a stop before them.

The driver leapt down from the seat in one fluid motion and opened the door for them, dipping his chin in greeting.

“To House Celestine,” Solarius declared, his entire body attuning to the sweep of Narissa’s eyes as they shifted over him.

“Celestine?”

“You said home.” His tongue was sharp and his tone curt, his temper still boiling after she pulled such a ridiculous stunt.

He grabbed her by the waist, lifted her into the carriage, and climbed in after her.

The door closed behind him and he took the seat across from her, folding his arms over his chest.

“So, we’re going home.”

The carriage lurched forward and Narissa gripped the edge of the leather seat, nearly toppling right into him.

Her panicked gaze flicked out the windows toward the clear winter sky, and she pressed herself backward, chest heaving.

Solarius may have been honorable and respectful, but the gown she wore tonight left so very little to the imagination that simply looking at her made his cock twitch and throb.

If he had known that was the dress she was going to wear to House Galefell, he never would have allowed her to leave Windsong without him.

Each time she shifted on the leather bench across from him, he got another glimpse of sun-kissed skin.

She crossed one leg over the other, prim and clearly annoyed, but her shoulders bunched to nearly her ears as the carriage left the ground and launched into the night sky.

If he wasn’t so pissed off, he would find her mix of irritation and alarm slightly endearing.

But alas, he continued to grind his teeth, agitated by the fact that she’d chosen to sneak out of Windsong and attend a ball at Galefell, at Calfair’s fucking house , without him.

“What of our clothing?” she sniped, her teeth grazing her plump bottom lip.

“I’ll send for all of it from Windsong once we arrive.”

Narissa huffed, unimpressed.

“Fine, but what about the rest of my belongings? Everything I own is in Azurvend. My harp. My personal collection of potions. I have an entire room full of?—”

“Of what?” Solarius bit out.

The coach bounced on a rolling gust of air and she inhaled sharply.

“Of herbs and things.”

He wanted to comfort her, to pull her into his arms and soothe her.

There was no mistaking the bubble of fear surrounding her.

“I’ll send for all of it.”

“But—”

“No more excuses, Narissa.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, linking his fingers together.

“Do you think I don’t hear what the servants in House Azurvend say about you? About me? About us? Do you honestly think I would just ignore their snide comments and outrageous claims?”

Some emotion banked deep in the heat of her angry ocean eyes, but Narissa said nothing.

She rubbed her lips, then pressed them together so tightly, her entire body quivered.

Solarius responded for her.

“No. I refuse to allow you to dwell in a place where you are ignored and unwelcome. Your cousin, Lord Marintide, being the exception.” He steepled his fingers, tapping them together lightly.

“You will reside in House Celestine, with me, and if we must build a place of our own, then so be it.”

She sniffled and straightened her spine, but it did nothing to disguise the glassy look in her eyes.

“Do not cry,” he warned.

Her bottom lip trembled.

“I’m trying not to.”

Solarius leaned back against the seat and stretched his arms wide, his frustration mounting.

“Have I done something to offend you? Is this not what you wanted?”

“No, it is, of course it is. It’s just?—”

“Then why are you upset?” Solarius boomed, expecting her to recoil from the rage in his voice, but she met him head on.

“I don’t understand why you’re shouting!” Narissa glared at him and her nails bit into the leather bench as a shudder of frustration wrecked her.

“You’re sitting here, telling me you’re going to do all these wonderful things for me, for us, yet you’re angry about it?”

Solarius shoved his hands through his hair and blew out a harsh breath.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger in an effort to calm his growing exasperation, but it was impossible to ignore her.

To ignore how mindlessly furious he was with her.

He reached out then, plucking her off the seat as though she was featherlight, and plopped her onto his lap.

Her legs draped over one of his thighs and her rosy pink skirts tumbled around them both.

“Why Rissa?” He gently grasped her chin, tilting her face up to him, while his other hand slid over the warm skin of her back, slipping beneath the soft fabric of her gown to her bare waist.

“Why would you go to House Galefell without me? Why would you willingly put yourself in harm’s way? I cannot protect you if I am not with you.”

He meant every word yet could not help if they were charged with indignation.

Narissa lifted her chin, giving him a tempting view of her rather kissable neck.

“Calfair’s sister, Lady Aria, requested a tonic. I thought I could slip in and then quickly leave without being seen.”

Solarius barked out a rough laugh, his fingers dipping lower to her hip.

He released her chin and slowly let his other fingers graze the column of her throat, before he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck.

“Do you have an invisibility potion I’m not aware of? How in the world did you possibly think no one would notice you?”

“Because they never do!” she shouted, fisting her hands in her lap, and he fell silent as a swell of her emotions slammed into the bond, stealing his breath.

“You do not know what it is like, Solarius. You have a wonderful, loving family. Your bloodline is without blemish. You are wildly handsome and most ladies swoon at the mere mention of your name.”

He scoffed.

“That’s a little?—”

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

“I am not done speaking.”

Solarius reared back.

The coach jostled slightly, and he held her tighter, sensing the tremor of fear amidst the turmoil of her feelings.

“Apologies, my lady.”

Narissa’s brow pinched together as she stared at where she clutched the fabric of his collared shirt in her hand.

She swiped her thumb back and forth across a shiny black button.

“I am a wallflower. I attend all the balls and seasonal parties, but I blend in with the papered walls. I am never asked to dance. No one ever brings me sweet wine or a refreshing glass of punch. I have no real friends and have spent the majority of my life alone. And tides be blessed, Reif tries, but there is only so much I can share with him.”

Her words cut through him, torturously slow as she unraveled this layer of herself, as she laid herself bare before him.

He drew her face closer, fingers pressing into her delicate neck until they shared the same air.

“How can you say that about yourself?”

“Because it’s true, Sol.” Narissa’s eyes filled again, her lashes dampening, but the tears did not fall.

Her nose crinkled and she blinked them away.

“You were the first one who saw me. The first who made me think maybe, just maybe, I was deserving of something more. Of something greater.”

Solarius followed the line of her plush bottom lip with the tip of his thumb.

“Then Calfair happened.”

“Yes.” She swallowed, her tongue darting out, swiping along that luscious lip.

“And then Rosalie happened.”

Rosalie Davenport.

The human princess Solarius obsessed over after he tried to purge Narissa from his mind.

The first female who only used him for a good time.

He supposed he had chased after her because she reminded him so much of Narissa.

Similar golden hair, same spitfire attitude, but whereas Narissa threw carefully crafted insults his direction with heat in her eyes, Rosalie tossed them with ice.

Cold and unforgiving, that one.

He’d given Rosalie his heart and she ripped it out, then pierced it with the spiky heel of her shoe before she walked away from him for good.

She only wanted the thrill of fucking a fae, and like a fool he gave in, thinking he might be enough to change her mind.

To keep her around.

He wasn’t.

She left him last Midsummer.

He thought to propose, she acted as though he was wasting her time.

Like she had somewhere better to be, anywhere else than in the same place as him.

Rosalie didn’t love him, she loved the idea of him.

But Narissa…

perhaps there was a story between them that had yet to be told.

Maybe she could love him again.

“There was nothing between Rosalie and myself.” The admission stung more than he cared to admit.

But it was necessary.

A truth he’d denied to himself for two full seasons.

“She never wanted me.”

“But I wanted you.” Narissa grabbed his shoulders in earnest and her mouth spoke the words against his lips.

Her frosty green eyes warmed with the reflection of desire.

“I still want you. If you’ll have me.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and he caught the pearl in one hand without tearing his gaze away from her face.

He tucked it into his pocket as the carriage dropped from the sky, landing smoothly as it rolled to a stop against the smooth drive of House Celestine.

Still, Solarius did not look away from her.

He held his breath and dove into the depths of her eyes, ready to drown.

“I want you, Rissa love. I promise. I have always wanted you.” Then he captured her lips with his own, sealing that promise with a feverish kiss.